


Once Upon A Dream (You Remembered)

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Category: Anastasia (1997)
Genre: Angst, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Remembrance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 04:36:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11246445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: They say you die twice: once, when you exhale your very last breath and a second time, when someone utters your name for the very last time.You do not die, because she did not utter your name. But your unbeating heart aches, because you know she cannot- she does not remember, and that feels worse than dying. (A little drabble  for the Once Upon A December dancing scene).





	Once Upon A Dream (You Remembered)

**Author's Note:**

> A) I am studying (=My mind is very creative in finding ways to distract me, remembers every little detail from every story it ever saw/read/listened to but cannot reproduce the life cycle of Ascaris suum)
> 
> B) Anastasia has always been one of my favourite animated films, and now I discovered THE MUSICAL SONGS
> 
> C) My finals are doomed.

“This place,” Anastasia whispers, as she dusts of a vase, “it is like a memory from a dream.”

She does not know the vase she just touched is an antique, worth 1694600 Russian rubles. She does not know she once broke its twin in a mad dash down the staircase she just walked up, as she was playing hide and seek with her little brother, Alexei.

She does not remember calling this palace her home, she does not remember _them._

They say you die twice: once, when you exhale your very last breath and a second time, when someone utters your name for the very last time.

You think there might be some truth to this statement. You do not die- not quite, because your lungs have been long empty of air, and also, because your name is still uttered by many people. Usually in hushed, reverent tones, but sometimes also in raised victorious voices, polished with too much drinks.

You do not die, because she did not utter your name. But your unbeating heart aches, because you know she cannot- she does not remember, and that feels worse than dying.

It is a strange combination, this ache and this absolute joy and elation at seeing her alive and well and _safe._

She fills the palace with song then, your darling girl, dances like she used to. You come alive, meet her, dance with her. She is big enough to look you in the eyes now without having to lift her, she dances without treading on your feet.

You kiss her forehead, and she bows for you and you hope, yearn _, pray_ for her to remember you-

“Hey!” A voice shouts, and just like that her memories flit away, and so do you, returning to dust and paint and silence.


End file.
